


lunch date

by 1000_directions



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crymaxing, Hand Feeding, Lunch, M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 12:31:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20693570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1000_directions/pseuds/1000_directions
Summary: Bucky and Clint have lunch. And dessert.





	lunch date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kangofu_CB](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangofu_CB/gifts).

> for cb, who needed a little extra motivation today. and for autocorrect, which kept insisting that clint's dick was gardening.
> 
> "rimming" square for winterhawk bingo

Bucky’s still getting used to Clint. Their relationship is still new, and even that word still feels unfamiliar to his tongue. _Relationship_. It doesn’t sound like something that should be accessible to him. Bucky’s still getting used to the idea that Clint likes him and wants to spend time with him, wants to touch his body and hear about his day. Bucky’s _really_ still getting used to the idea that Clint actually wants to be touched by him, too. And yet, here the two of them are, and whatever they choose to call it, it’s working.

He texts Clint on the quinjet ride back, just lets him know he’s headed back from the mission. Clint replies almost instantly and asks Bucky to drop by his rooms when he gets in, offering to make him lunch. He includes a whole string of emojis after this, one of which is a pizza, another of which is an eggplant.

The invitation is suspicious, because Clint doesn’t cook. But Bucky isn’t so hungry anyway, and he does really want to see Clint, so he heads right to Clint’s floor and figures he can always order Chinese later.

He gets to Clint’s room, and FRIDAY lets him in. Clint’s got his back to Bucky and doesn’t seem to hear him come in, because he doesn’t look up from the frozen pizza in his hands. He’s wearing a retro Dodgers hoodie that doesn’t fit and obviously belongs to Bucky. Bucky likes his clothing big to accommodate the arm and because he doesn’t like feeling trapped, and Clint is positively swimming in fabric, the hem of it skimming his bare thighs. Something about the sight of Clint looking so small in his clothing makes Bucky feel fiercely, immediately protective.

Bucky walks over to say hi and get his hello kiss, but before he can say anything, Clint is bending forward to put the pizza in the oven, and Bucky nearly chokes on his tongue as the fabric rides up over Clint’s ass. Bucky could clearly see from a distance that Clint wasn’t wearing any pants, but he didn’t realize he wasn’t wearing any underwear either. Jesus.

Clint bends his knees and leans forward, his thighs spread just enough for Bucky to see his cock hanging softly between them. Bucky doesn’t know what sort of noise leaves his mouth but it must be something because Clint pauses then and glances casually over his shoulder, smiling easy and innocent at Bucky.

“Hey, babe,” he says. “Didn’t hear you come in.”

But he _must_ have, Bucky knows he heard and he planned this, planned exactly what position he wanted Bucky to find him in, ass out, cock heavy, bent over the counter and ready. Bucky’s dick throbs in his tac pants.

Clint puts the pizza in the oven and closes the door with a casual bump of his hip, and then he pads over to Bucky with bare feet, his dick just slightly tenting out the front of his oversized sweatshirt. Bucky feels each one of his footsteps, his cock throbs to the rhythm of Clint stalking over to him and wrapping his arms around Bucky’s neck.

“Hiya,” Clint murmurs. “I’m making lunch. Are you hungry?”

“I could eat,” Bucky says weakly, his hands automatically going to Clint’s waist to catch him as he crowds in close. Clint makes a small pleased sound and licks into Bucky’s mouth, and Bucky’s lips part, helpless to resist.

He feels Clint’s dick hardening against his abs, and he skates one hand down Clint’s side, slipping under his sweatshirt to brush his fingertips over the soft, warm skin of Clint’s inner thigh. Clint moans into Bucky’s mouth, emboldening him to drag one curious finger up his crack, prodding experimentally at his hole. Bucky’s unprepared for how Clint seems to go almost boneless in his arms, and he catches Clint as he trips forward, easy and lazy and already so desperate, already so ready to give himself over.

Bucky and Clint trade hungry, messy, slow kisses, back and forth. Clint gets harder against Bucky’s stomach but Bucky is unhurried, teasing.

When the oven timer finally goes off, Clint pulls back with his face flushed and his lips puffy.

“Are you gonna get that?” Bucky asks gently. “I think you promised me lunch, sweetheart.” 

Clint licks his lips and blinks his dazed eyes at Bucky, and it takes him a moment to nod and collect himself. He shuffles over to the oven and pulls out the pizza, burning his fingers sullenly as he plunks it down onto a plate. Bucky goes to sit at the table and Clint walks over to him, a small wet patch on the front of his sweatshirt where his dick has leaked.

“Come here,” Bucky says softly, patting his lap, and Clint puts the plate on the table and perches on Bucky’s thigh.

Bucky kisses his burned fingertips, sucking gently on his flushed skin while Clint whimpers. Then, Bucky breaks off a corner of the pizza and holds it to Clint’s parted lips.

“Eat, baby,” he murmurs, and Clint accepts the food from Bucky’s hand.

Bucky continues breaking off small pieces of pizza and holding them to Clint’s mouth, and Clint eats carefully, teasingly flicking his tongue over Bucky’s fingers as he pulls the food into his mouth. Bucky takes his time, slowly feeding Clint the entire pizza as Clint squirms in his lap, his bare ass dragging steadily against the harsh material of Bucky’s pants. Bucky doesn’t comment on it; if Clint’s discomfort becomes unbearable, he’ll say something.

“Stick our your tongue,” Bucky says when the pizza is gone, and Clint listens. Bucky carelessly wipes off his fingers on Clint’s extended tongue, pressing his fingertips in, feeling the greedy give of his tongue.

“You didn’t eat,” Clint whispers, his tongue brushing Bucky’s lingering fingers with each word. “I made that for you.”

“I wasn’t so hungry for pizza,” Bucky says. He finally reluctantly pulls his fingers away from Clint’s tongue, but only far enough to brush his thumb consideringly over Clint’s pouting lower lip. “What do you have for dessert?”

“Just me,” Clint says. His pupils are so blown already that his eyes look black. “Are you hungry for me?”

“Sweetheart, I’m always hungry for you,” Bucky murmurs, sliding his hand around to the back of Clint’s neck and pulling him in for a quick, deep kiss. Clint whines when he pulls back, but Bucky has plans. “Get up for me, baby. Back to me, elbows on the table.”

“Okay,” Clint says, inelegantly unfolding himself from his perch on Bucky’s thigh. He turns his back to Bucky and bends over the table, and his hoodie rides up again, displaying his ass. “Like this?”

“Legs wider,” Bucky says. Clint shuffles his feet a few inches apart. “_Wider_,” Bucky repeats, inserting his knees between Clint’s legs and spreading his own thighs until Clint stumbles and scrambles to widen his stance. “Better.”

Like this, Clint has to push up onto his tiptoes to keep his precarious balance. His legs are wide open and shaky, and his ass is right in front of Bucky’s face, hole on display. Bucky runs an appreciative hand up and down Clint’s thigh, soothing and possessive in equal measure, and he hears Clint sucking in air and breathing out quiet moans. He’s bent nearly in half, ass up, face pressed down, his dick caught somewhere between the fabric of his sweatshirt and the tabletop.

“Lovely,” Bucky says. He runs his hand over Clint’s ass cheek, digging slightly into the flesh, red and tender from rubbing againts Bucky’s pants. He holds him open just a little wider, and then he pauses and waits. He wants Clint to know that he’s being studied, that Bucky appreciates the view of him bent over and exposed, so intimate.

Clint’s making hiccupy little gasping noises that go right to Bucky’s cock, and Bucky doesn’t see the point in holding back any longer. He leans in and licks a broad, slow stroke over Clint’s hole, and Clint squeaks in surprise, his legs instinctively trying to close even though Bucky’s knees are keeping him splayed.

“Oh shit,” Clint whispers. “Oh god. Oh god.”

“Was this what you planned when you got all dressed up?” Bucky asks. He lets his tongue go soft and pliant in his mouth as he traces Clint’s rim, letting the spit in his mouth trickle down Clint’s crack. Clint makes a choked, desperate noise as Bucky licks delicately at his rim.

“Oh god,” Clint says. His thighs are trembling.

“Was this what you pictured while I was gone? Did you want me to bend you over and ruin you with my mouth sweetheart? Could you think about anything else?”

Clint whimpers, and Bucky licks pointedly over Clint’s hole, wiggling the tip of his tongue around until he finally breaches the tight ring of muscle. He hears the sounds of Clint’s breathing, loud and exaggerated as he gasps for air and as Bucky licks deeper, he hears Clint start to cry.

Bucky moves both of his hands to Clint’s ass, spreading him wider so he can press his tongue deeper until Clint nearly howls. His legs are wobbly, and his arms give out all together until his torso is flat on the table, his ass served up like a platter. He’s rutting against the tabletop now, just blindly humping into his sweatshirt. Bucky pulls his tongue out only long enough to suck on one of his fingers and wiggle the tip inside of Clint, and his hole immediately clenches. He tries to pull Bucky deeper, and Bucky lets him.

“You’re so greedy, sweetheart,” Bucky says softly. “It’s okay. I’ll give you everything you need.”

Bucky pushes his finger deep and crooks it just as he sucks a wet kiss to Clint’s swollen rim, and Clint wails and shakes and begins to come, hole spasming rhythmically.

“You’re okay,” Bucky says, still stroking a careful finger inside of Clint. “You’re okay, baby.”

Even after he’s come so hard that he seems wrung out, collapsed on the table with his muscles still twitching, Clint allows Bucky to play with his hole a little longer, just watching the ease with which he can push his finger in and drag it back out again. The sensation must be so much, must be so _intense_, but Clint never seems to mind, and Bucky loves pushing him as far as Clint will allow.

“Okay,” Bucky says eventually. He pulls out his finger and squeezes Clint’s hip, and Clint seems to deflate all at once, stumbling backwards into Bucky’s lap and immediately tucking his wet face into Bucky’s neck.

“I missed you,” Clint whispers into Bucky’s skin.

“I missed you, too, sweetheart,” Bucky says honestly. He never realized he’d feel this way about someone, but Christ, he fucking misses Clint when he’s gone.

“I missed your cock, too,” Clint says, kissing Bucky’s collarbone, and Bucky laughs.

“You’re not very subtle, are you?”

“Not even a tiny bit,” Clint agrees.”

“Well how about we go take a shower, and the two of you can get all caught up?” Bucky suggests.

And Clint looks up at him, tear-tracks shining bright in the light of his brilliant smile, and oh God, Bucky is so fucking gone for him. He doesn’t know if he’s ever going to be used to the idea of being in a relationship, but he can’t wait to spend a lot of time trying.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr post](https://1000-directions.tumblr.com/post/187809285534/title-lunch-date-link-ao3-pairing-buckyclint)


End file.
